


Constant Companionship

by Acting4Hope



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of alcohol, spoilers for episode 63, spoilers for stolen century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acting4Hope/pseuds/Acting4Hope
Summary: Merle is rash. Davenport is tired.





	Constant Companionship

**Author's Note:**

> My first TAZ fic I posted (not the first written though because Anxiety Ahoy) and it's about my gay grandpas, of course. Anyway, after today's episode I couldn't stop thinking of someone being bothered with the sheer amount of times Merle has to die in order to get information. And, of course, my braid had to make it absolutely gay. I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

No one had dared to sit with Merle the first time he used Parlay. Once he had sat down and turned to smoke, the entire group made their way out of the room. They didn’t know what to do; they feared that if they stayed they would throw off Merle’s concentration, or something of that sort. They waited for hours (almost an entire day) in tense silence, until the planet suddenly felt still. 

 

When they entered the room Merle was sitting in, his smoky form was gone. 

 

The silence continued as the members of the IPRE boarded the Starblaster and left shortly after. And when Merle returned, no one mentioned his death. 

 

These ritualistic meetings continued with almost every cycle, with the very same results. And still, even though the crew  _ knew  _ they could do nothing to alter Merle’s smoky form or mess him up, they still allowed him to sit alone. 

 

Until Davenport had enough, and decided to sit with him. 

 

\--- 

 

It was the seventh cycle of Merle meeting with The Hunger, and Davenport was getting antsy. Merle usually waited until the end of the cycles to talk with The Hunger, but this time the crew had discovered his smoky form in the common area on the ship not even half way through the year. Lucretia had sat with Merle for a little while, only to describe in her journals how Merle’s form looked when he used Parlay, but she was gone in under an hour. No one else dared to enter the common room (or the ship, for that matter) while Merle was in his smoky form. But, eventually, Davenport had announced to the group that he was going inside. 

 

“I’m sick of just...sitting around and showing up when he’s already dead. As captain, I feel a personal responsibility to protect my teammates; even if his death is almost imminent the second he goes to cast Parlay.” Davenport explained, standing on the runway leading onto the deck of the Starblaster. The crew was looking at him, gathered around a quickly-made fire pit right beside their ship. Lup, who was originally aiding Taako in building the fire and starting dinner, now stood. 

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She asked. “I mean, I know we’re all...pretty bummed about Merle getting the axe every other cycle, but...we don’t know what happens  _ when _ he dies. What if he... _ blows up _ or something?” Lup looked around at the group for any support; but everyone’s gaze was casted upon the ship, where Merle could already be gone. After a second, she sighed and sat back down, looking away. Davenport took one last glance at his crew--his  _ family _ , at this point--and walked back onto the Starblaster. 

 

\--- 

 

When he entered the common room, Merle’s figure was still sitting there. Davenport slowly made his way over to his friend, taking in the scene around him. Merle must have been planning this while everyone was out; the coffee table was pushed to the corner of the room, and he was seated in the exact center of the room, on one of the couch cushions that was laid out on the floor. Around his body were a circle of small candles, all lit and lighting up the room. Davenport took a seat right outside of this circle and studied Merle’s smoky features. 

 

The outline was certainly Merle, but his actual features were replaced with hazy, black static. It almost looked like an artist had outlined Merle’s body, but filled it with the physical manifestation of numbness. Just looking at Merle for a mere  _ minute _ was starting to make Davenport’s head ache. But he remained unmoving next to his friend; simply watching as the minutes ticked on by. He wanted so  _ desperately _ to touch him, to keep himself grounded by knowing that Merle was still here, but he feared what that might do. So he watched, and waited. 

 

An hour later; nothing happened. 

 

Two hours later; nothing happened. 

 

Four hours later; nothing happened. 

 

Nine hours later; nothing happened. 

 

Twelve hours later; Davenport watched as Merle’s body dissipated into the air around him. 

 

Twelve hours and five minutes later; Davenport blew out the candles, put the couch cushion back in place, and collapsed into a small heap on the floor; where he slept for the next day and a half. 

 

\--- 

 

Merle returned next cycle to a teary-eyed crew that berated, teased, and scolded him for being so rash. That night, Taako and Lup decided to cook a special dinner and celebrate life. (“Because there isn’t fucking much to celebrate, anymore,” Taako claimed as he started pulling pots and pans out of cabinets. “Plus, me an’ Lup have been itchin’ to whip out this sweet pasta dish we’ve perfected.”) Everyone partook in good food, good wine, and laughter that night; and not a soul on the ship was down. 

 

Except Davenport. 

 

\---

 

After dinner, Davenport approached Merle in the common room and asked if he can talk with him in his quarters. Merle nearly made a crass remark, but after seeing the look in Davenport’s face, he merely swallowed his wine and gave a curt nod. Davenport made his way to his room and waited, and nearly twenty minutes later, Merle followed suit. 

 

“So, uhhh...you needed to talk, Cap’n?” Merle asked as he entered, trying to keep an air of nonchalance. Davenport was seated on his bed, looking towards the floor. He pat the seat beside him and Merle obliged, waddling over to sit beside Davenport. Silence spread over the two; the sounds of music and laughter echoing through the room. They both should be celebrating; should be happy in their place, but instead… 

 

“That was a really fucking stupid thing you did, Merle.” Davenport said, his gaze still to the floor. Merle didn’t look surprised (something in the back of his mind, that day, was predicting a scenario such as this), he just let out a sigh and leaned back on his hands. 

 

“I...figured you would say that,” Merle responded, looking up to the ceiling. “But what else could I have done?” 

 

“You could have  _ waited _ ,” Davenport blurted, his tone frustrated and sad. “At the very  _ least _ , you could have  _ waited _ until everyone was  _ here  _ before you left. Damnit, Merle, do you ever  _ think  _ before you act? We were only five months into the cycle, Merle, we had  _ time _ before you contacted The Hunger again.” He was facing Merle, now, and he searched the dwarf’s face for any sort of sign that he understood. That he could process the amount of grief and helplessness Davenport felt  _ every single time _ one of his friends passed away. All he could see on Merle’s face was exhaustion; the kind of exhaustion that only came with dying and being reincarnated over a dozen times. 

 

“I understand what you’re saying, but...I was out of options.” Merle admitted, hands gripping the sheets a little tighter. “The only thing I’m  _ good _ for is talking with Joh--The Hunger, I mean. I’ve always been sort of a shitty scout,” he breaks this sentence with a self-pitying laugh, “and my cleric purposes aren’t...all that good in the regular shit we do. All I’m good at is being a sort of  _ shitty lump _ on the ship, and parlaying with The Hunger.” 

 

“Merle, that’s not true!” Davenport retorted, grasping one of Merle’s hands to get his attention. “When did you  _ ever _ start believing that was true!? You are a  _ vital  _ member to our group, Merle. You...you inspired religion into an  _ entire race _ ! On our first cycle, you went out there and tried to  _ find _ the Light of Creation with barely anything to go off of! You’ve made us all  _ laugh _ , and given us  _ hope _ , and...and damnit, Merle, we  _ care _ about you!” He’s gripping Merle’s hand now, a few tears clinging onto the corners of his eyes. Merle was staring at him, mouth firmly shut, and said nothing. 

 

“ _ I  _ care about you, Merle. I….I-I know you...I know  _ we  _ didn’t want to mention what happened out in the woods that first cycle, but...b-but it doesn’t change how much I care about you.” Davenport murmured. The silence following what he said was gripping, and Davenport was about to say something else, when he suddenly felt a pair of lips upon his own; desperately locking him in a passionate embrace. Davenport could feel the pricks of Merle’s long beard on his chin; he smelled of wine and violets, and Davenport nearly collapsed into Merle. His arms found his way around the dwarf’s neck, pulling him closer to his body. Merle’s hands never left Davenport’s face, as he lovingly stroked his cheeks as they kissed. 

 

After about a minute; the two pulled apart for breath, but never left each other’s embrace. Merle rested his forehead against Davenport’s, puffing his breath directly in his face. Davenport did not dare to move; fearful that if he pulled back, Merle would blow away in the wind. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Merle muttered, “I’m sorry that I’m a bad person, and I’m sorry that I’m a bad friend, and I’m sorry that I’m a bad  _ lover _ , and--” His voice caught in his throat. “Next time...I’ll tell you...okay?” Davenport let a smile make its way onto his face (a small, sad one; but a smile, nonetheless) and shifted so he could plant a kiss on Merle’s forehead. 

 

“ _ Okay _ .” 

 

\--- 

 

No one dared to sit with Merle the first time he used Parlay. But now, he has a constant companion in the form of Davenport; who will take the time out of that fateful day to sit beside Merle and wait until he died. Sometimes, it would take mere minutes; others,  _ days _ , but Davenport waited through it all. On occasion, if a crew member happened to pass by the room where they both sat; they could hear Davenport talking to Merle. Telling him about the day’s plans, and what the crew was doing; anything that would come to mind. 

 

And, when the smoke would finally clear; Davenport would stand up, reorganize the place where Merle set up his ritual, return to the Starblaster, and lay on Merle’s bed for a day. Then, he would get up, and continue. 

 

Because Merle would want that; whether his death was a never-ending cycle, or permanent. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, feel free to hmu w/ TAZ stuff on my tumblr: autistic--amethyst.tumblr.com


End file.
